“What do you mean ‘we’re out of Rice Chex?’ How can we be out of goddamned Rice Chex?”
update: “You know what? No big deal. Just toast me up a Pop Tart, instead.”
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Recent Comments
- In The Mailbox: 02.28.23 (Afternoon Edition) : The Other McCain on Hey, longtime pw readers…
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Is this some wry way of asking someone for a Brittney Spears CD?
Is this some wry way of asking someone for a box of Count C(h)ockula?
”…and make it snappy!”
SB: month
in traction
What ever happened to the morning piece of PIE?
I popped a tart once. Man, was she toasted. Otherwise, it would have been Rice Chex for breakfast, again. Some days you get the elevator…
And peel me a grape, Beulah!
I’d be interested in knowing who played which role in this scene. As the “house-husband” its YOUR responsibility to see that the shelves are full!
Anyone who complains about Pop tarts needs to eat a big bowl of malt-o-meal. Then come back and tell me how bad they are.
I was speaking to my imaginary friend “Camus.”
Peanut Butter Malto-Meal at that…
We had a campus bus system known as “Cambus.” Freshman came to the bookstore looking for his copy of The Strangler by an author of that name.
House husband does not mean shopping queen. There are some divisions of labor that are based on hundreds of thousands of years of genetic differentiation: Hunter vs Gatherer. Meat vs Grains. Now, wench, about the shopping?
I was speaking to my imaginary friend “Camus.”
Al? That rat? He’s such a peste, huh?
SB: march
madness
We ran out of Rice Chex today. Or was it yesterday? Who cares?
–Camus
Fergitit Priscilla.
Uh, darlin,’ could ya, uh huh, make the King a fried-egg sammich? Yeah.
Condileeza Rice Chex?
Donna Rice Chex?
Pixie Pug, did you mean Rice Chicks?
Word of advice. Don’t even get out of bed until you’ve done your daily wake and bake. That way you’ll go straight for the Pop-Tarts.
Froot Loops or Apple Jacks.
Topped with Bailey’s.
Apparently the Pop Tarts have distracted you from the fucking ‘Dillo, who has not made an appearance in quite some time.
TW : Wife. Tell the wife that you do not have time at the moment, you and the ‘dillo have some work to do.
Who are you trying to kid? There never was any Rice Chex.
Were you really out of Rice Chex?
Or was it just that you’re one of those that won’t eat the crumbs (quantity of which depends on how many stock-boys man-handled the cartons) at the bottom of the box?
No rice chicks for me.
My partner is a Texan.
TW: issue…yes,I have an issue or two……….
But thanks for asking
TW:very
much
I know the ‘dillo won’t dance. but I still await the Friday “dillo excuse”. With baited breath this time. I have it from (not so reliable) sources that the little fellow made an early appearance in Rio to get ahead of the crowds at Carnival and was mugged by hundreds of sock puppets standing in line waiting for their shot at Glenn Greenwald’s computer terminal!
Try blending toasted pop tarts with orange juice and a raw egg. I don’t know why, but just try it.
I tried rice checks once. Now I just go to the ATM.
I believe that one day the armadillo will dance.
I believe I’ll have a scotch. Oh, never mind—I already have one.
</Ron White>
Breakfast pie with Jauhara: eggs and cream mixed nicely together into a 5 inche pot pie shell already filled with Gruyere and smoked bacon. Bake at 325 for 40 minutes. Rice chex should never be an option…unless you make muddy buddies out of them.
Jauhara,
Yes! Yes! –except the top should be sprinkled with chopped onion, comino (fresh leaf), and chiles (of the type that best matches one’s personal compression ratio).
With fresh-squeezed orange juice, and followed by cafe de olla steaming hot.
Mmmm. Pie.
Regards,
Ric